


fuck you, steve rogers

by summersnights



Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: First Kiss, Getting Together, I Don't Know When This is, M/M, Stars, Steve helps, Tony Has Issues, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, balcony talks, i don't know where this happens
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-26
Updated: 2020-01-26
Packaged: 2021-02-27 08:01:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,668
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22413637
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/summersnights/pseuds/summersnights
Summary: Tony wants to know what it feels like to be meaningless. Steve wants to show Tony he cares.
Relationships: Steve Rogers/Tony Stark
Comments: 2
Kudos: 52





	fuck you, steve rogers

**Author's Note:**

> guys i was going through some of my other google drive accounts and i found this but -- plot twist -- i wrote this over four years ago and i don't even remember writing it! i edited a tad and here it is for you all. i hope you guys enjoy it :)

The sky is pretty.

He feels sick and dizzy and the world is spinning around him, but the stars don’t move. They’re bright and beautiful, specks of white dotting the inky blackness above. He sits on the balcony floor, head throbbing, and stares at the stars because he likes them and he doesn’t need any other reason than that. For a moment, with the vastness spread above him as far as the eye can see, he feels like nothing matters, but that isn’t true. Everything matters – even the way he breathes, the way he blinks. Every single thing matters and perhaps that’s what scares him most.

“Tony?”

He hears it, but he doesn’t answer. If everything matters so much then what would happen if he didn’t react? Maybe there will be less of an aftermath. Maybe there will be a fleeting moment where nothing matters because he’s so fucking tired of every fucking thing meaning so fucking much. He’d rather be meaningless for a while. Then he’d be able to think and sort out the things in his head.

“Tony.”

“…Yes?”

Maybe if it weren’t Steve, he wouldn’t reply. Maybe if it weren’t Steve, he would remain on their hotel balcony until he died. Maybe if it weren’t Steve, he’d feel meaningless, but it is Steve and he can’t complain because Steve is everything to him, but he can ponder the possibilities.

Steve sits next to him, calm and comforting just at first glance, so Tony doesn’t look at him because he needs to feel this sickness for a few more minutes. It’s real, but it isn’t – it’s painful, but it’s not. It means something but it means nothing and Tony envies that. He stares at the stars instead, like he was before, and Steve asks, “What are you doing out here?”

Which is a gentler way of asking if Tony is lost in his thoughts again, and the answer is yes, he is, but he doesn’t say that. “Star gazing.”

“That’s bullshit,” Steve says with a chuckle. The statement is shocking enough to make Tony turn away from the sky and frown at him, confused. “You weren’t looking at them. You had that look in your eyes that you get when you’re spaced out. You just happened to end up looking in that direction, but you weren’t looking at the stars.”

It makes sense, stated like that. Tony shrugs, turns back to the stars, and mumbles, “Maybe you’re right.”

Smugly, Steve says, “I know I am.”

Tony doesn’t reply. His head isn’t throbbing anymore, but he still feels dizzy and he isn’t sure why but he doesn’t question it. If he lets it happen, it won’t mean anything. He won’t mean anything. That’s what he wants, isn’t it? To mean nothing for a few minutes?

“And I know I’m right when I say that something’s wrong. Do you want to talk about it?”

Fuck you, Steve, Tony thinks, but he doesn’t say it. Fuck you for caring. Fuck you for making me feel like I’m worth something. Don’t you understand that someone as weak and fragile as me can’t handle the weight of being important to someone else?

He says none of that. “I don’t know how to talk about it,” is his response, gentle and scared, much like him. He fears that it’s too quiet, that the gentle breeze swept his words away, but Steve hums in understanding and he knows it was just loud enough to be heard.

“Try.”

The way Steve says it implies that it’s just that simple. That all Tony has to do is part his lips and talk and maybe he’ll end up blubbering about how he feels. He doesn’t believe it for a second – refuses to believe that it’s that fucking easy. But, for Steve, he will try.

“I want to mean nothing,” he starts, blunt and tired and if he wasn’t so focused on the sky then he would rest his head on Steve’s shoulder because he needs the comfort. “Everything- everything matters, every little thing. It all means so much, and I just- I want to be meaningless, just for a little bit.”

It’s quiet. He can feel Steve’s gaze on him, but he doesn’t meet it. He can’t. Not yet.

“Why?” Steve asks, sounding both curious and concerned and his voice is so caring that Tony wants to cry. Fuck you, Steve. “Why do you want to be meaningless?”

“Because–” He stops, sighs, and finally turns his head to look Steve in the eyes. The breeze brushes against his face and the tears that he didn’t realize are falling sting with the cold. “Because, I just- it’s heavy, okay? Knowing that people- that you- that I matter. A lot of my choices- they don’t just affect me anymore, they affect you and they can affect Rhodey and- and Pepper and–”

His words die in his throat because he’s struggling to breathe, inhales quick and exhales shaky, and his chest aches and his head is throbbing again and this is exactly why he was looking at the stars, but now the stars are a reflection in Steve’s eyes and somehow they’re much prettier this way. Steve doesn’t look scared or shocked, only worried, only concerned. He cares.

He cares so fucking much and Tony is struggling; struggling to grasp the situation, the way he feels, the way he should behave. He doesn’t know how to react to the way that Steve cares because he cares in a way that no one else has before.

Rhodey cares, but not the way Steve does. Pepper cares, but not the way Steve does. Everyone fucking cares, but Steve cares more and he cares in a different way and Tony doesn’t know what way that is and-  
“Fuck you, Steve,” he manages to say, voice breaking and tears in his eyes, and he isn’t sure what Steve’s reaction is because he doesn’t give Steve time to react before closing the distance between them. It feels like there’s no air in his lungs and his hands are pressed firmly against the balcony floor beneath them and his legs ache from sitting for so long and he’s kissing Steve, holy shit, he’s kissing Steve-

And Steve’s kissing back.

He wishes he could see the way they look in this moment – he’s still crying, Steve’s wearing gym shorts and Tony’s wearing pajama pants, and they’re kissing and they’re kissing and life feels distorted and the balcony feels fake under Tony’s fingers so he lifts his trembling hands and places them on Steve’s cheeks because, fuck it, they’re already kissing. Something about Steve’s stubble beneath his fingertips feels a lot more real, a lot more grounding, a lot more like an anchor to his sanity.

They pull away, heaving for air, and Tony doesn’t even open his eyes before speaking. “You just- fuck you, okay? Fuck you for caring so- so fucking much, and for knowing me more than I know me and- and you understand and you help and I- I don’t- I don’t understand how I feel because it’s smothered by the weight of how much you fucking care and- I just- I wanted to feel meaningless for a second because if no one cared about me then I could focus on what I care about and what I want and I could piece it together–”

“Tony.”

“–and I act on impulse because- because I can’t tell- can’t- can’t decipher what I feel, but I feel something and I know it’s there and I want to know what it is but it’s- it’s so vague, so blurry and I–”

“Tony.”

“–I just want to fucking understand because sometimes I want to punch you because you care so much about me and other times I was to kiss you and- fuck, I kissed you, I don’t know if I should have done that, but I just- I know that- that Rhodey cares and Pepper and Bruce and Nat and- and all these people, but they don’t care like you do and I don’t understand–”

He doesn’t get to finish his rambling, effectively silenced by Steve pressing their lips together again. His heart stutters in shock, but he doesn’t push away, doesn’t break the kiss, because he wants it- needs it- craves it in ways he’s never experienced before. There’s a strange adrenaline in his veins, and he feels so real right now, so alive; he’s never been this aware of his pulse or the way his nails lightly scratch at Steve’s stubble before he moves his arms to wrap around Steve’s neck, pulling them closer together.

Steve settles a hand on his hip and he’s never felt this warm – even sitting in the dead of night, the wind slicing at his skin, he feels heat. It’s like he’s standing by a fire, the flames casting a soft orange glow over him and his surroundings, but there aren’t any flames, only a boy- Steve.

There’s him and there’s Steve and he feels so full of meaning and truth and he doesn’t care, doesn’t want to be meaningless anymore because the only thing he wants is to keep kissing Steve. He wants to kiss Steve until he’s out of air and then press chaste kisses to his lips, to his cheek, as he catches his breath and then they can kiss some more.

He wants to kiss Steve until his dying breath, but Steve cares and Steve won’t let that happen, so Steve pulls away and says, “Let’s go inside, okay? You’ve been on the balcony for nearly an hour, you’re gonna get sick.”

Tony lets himself smile, pressing their lips together for another quick kiss before saying, “Fuck you, Steve,” and Steve laughs because he knows what Tony really means, even if Tony doesn’t fully understand it yet.

But he’ll figure it out and Steve will help him, because Steve cares about Tony and Tony cares about Steve and that’s all that really matters right now.


End file.
